Semester's End (1)
“Why the hell did he burn it? I just don't get it.”
“There must be some reason behind it.”
Judging panel members Roserio, Longdalp, and the chairman gathered in the waiting room, locked in heated debate. Their topic was still Deculein's impulsive act.
“Deculein muttered three phrases in Rune Language, right? And crammed eighteen runes into those three lines? We definitely felt the mana fluctuations?”
Of course, forty-eight might be Deculein's typical exaggeration, but deciphering even eighteen new runes was achievement enough.
And Deculein had burned that achievement himself.
It was baffling.
The Deculein known to the magical world—Roserio included—was a “glory-hungry mage” who couldn't stand not flaunting his research.
Glory as in fame, not empathy.
“Maybe he didn't want the Rune Language decryption going public and causing issues in the Ashes Heap?!”
At the chairman's blunt remark, Roserio flinched.
“Well... yeah. They say even the Floating Island's crawling with demonkin spies these days.”
“Exactly! Those damn Ashes Heap bastards! This is all your fault—the runes got burned because of you!”
“...Ahem. Y-yes. I suppose so, Chairman, but your words are a bit... too harsh...”
Amid their lively exchange, Ruina sat alone, lost in grave contemplation.
“...”
Why had Deculein destroyed his own research with his own hands?
She pieced the incident together with her wisdom and insight.
“Perhaps...”
Maybe he had sought a clue to cure his illness in the runes—hoping for ancient power beyond modern magic.
But the runes held no miracles of healing, only endless potential for abuse.
So he destroyed them without hesitation.
No achievement could bring him the glory he deserved now...
At that moment—
The door burst open, and Deculein appeared. Roserio and the chairman, mid-conversation, startled and pretended to look busy.
Deculein fixed his gaze on Longdalp among them.
“Elder Longdalp.”
“Hm? Deculein, did you just call for me?”
Longdalp's wrinkled eyes widened round.
“Yes. I have a favor to ask.”
“A favor?”
“Would you spare a moment?”
“I can, but...”
Longdalp left with Deculein. Ruina stared intently at the door they exited through.
She wasn't one for gossip, but this incident piqued her curiosity. Her whole body itched with it.
Watching her, the chairman chuckled.
“Professor Ruina, you're just like me!”
Ruina narrowed her eyes in disbelief.
“No. I'm not like you, Chairman.”
“What's the difference~?”
Ruina sank wordlessly into the sofa. That triggered the chairman's “gossip antenna.”
Leaned-back posture. Eyes full of scorn. Fidgeting fingers. Face lost in minor worry.
That pose screams she knows something!
Confidence from superior info!
The chairman's eyes sparkled as she plopped right next to Ruina.
“What's the difference, Professor Ruina~?”
“I don't know.”
“Aww, come on~!”
Regrettably, Ruina's lips were sealed.
......
Symposium Problem Solved
◆ Mana +200
◆ Shop Currency +2
“Restoring this pendant is the favor?”
“Yes.”
Meanwhile, I handed Longdalp a certain pendant. Inside was a photo of the Luna family father and daughter.
“The photo inside is important.”
“Hm... It's a bit faded, but nothing too difficult.”
Longdalp was a named mage at the pinnacle of “Harmony” magic. That was why I'd sought him specifically.
“But I have a question of my own.”
“Yes.”
I nodded, and at that instant, Longdalp cast magic on the photo. It was Restoration · Regeneration, its tier hard to gauge.
“The forty-eight rune decryptions... real?”
“...Of course.”
I smiled faintly. Longdalp chuckled, stroking his chin beard, and handed back the pendant.
“Here. Take it.”
The restored pendant gleamed pristine. I opened the lid and examined the photo within.
“...”
My brow twitched.
Longdalp asked.
“Do you know that man?”
“Yes. He was my assistant.”
“Assistant?”
“He committed suicide.”
I said it calmly, pocketing the pendant. Longdalp awkwardly scratched his cheek.
“For my help—”
“No need for reward. Witnessing your achievement today is payment enough.”
As expected, named Longdalp's personality matched the setting.
Take his words at face value—show no sincerity—and he'd never grant another favor.
I wrote him a check.
“A small token. Please accept.”
50,000 elne, a fair price. Longdalp glanced at it, then smiled kindly and took it.
“What is this... I'll use it for nurturing the next generation, not personal gain.”
......
I stepped out to the back garden of Mesiseion. At our prearranged spot waited not just Kreto, but also Yeriel, Ifrin, and Sylvia.
I nodded first to Kreto.
“Thank you for attending.”
“Haha, no need. Quite the eye-opener, actually. Your lecture was incredible. How do you come up with such ideas? A true mage walking the royal path. Speaking of which...”
Is the original Rune Language truly the only one left? Kreto asked, hand over his mouth.
“Yes. There are no originals left in this world now.”
“...Don't you regret it? After devoting so much time.”
“I planned to burn it from the start. This era isn't mature enough to wield Rune Language.”
“Mature?”
“Rune Language from a villain's mouth would become a weapon to kill. Better to destroy it.”
Kreto's mouth fell half-open. His gaze held burdensome respect.
“By the way, the book you requested before.”
I pulled a signed first edition of Yukline: Understanding Pure Elements from my briefcase.
“You sure about giving me something this rare? You said it's not for sale.”
Kreto's eyes sparkled at the book; his hand caressed the cover gingerly.
“It's precisely because it's rare that I give it to you...”
That was when.
“What's your name, cutie?”
Ifrin's voice toward someone sounded off.
I turned, a bit tense.
“Heh heh. You're adorable.”
—...
“Such stubby legs.”
Ifrin was talking to a cat. The cat glared silently at her.
The red-furred Munchkin looked cute enough, but knowing its true nature, I could only pray for Ifrin's soul.
“Pfft. What? Gonna do something about it? Here, look at this~”
Ifrin conjured catnip and dangled it before the cat. It pawed at the swaying herb.
Swish—swish—its tiny front paws followed the motion.
Even possessed, the body's habits remained.
“Ah, that cat was entrusted to me by the Imperial Family.”
Kreto smiled brightly. I belatedly realized why Sophien had been so docile.
Kreto didn't know the cat was Sophien yet.
“Ifrin. Sylvia.”
I called them before things escalated.
“You two Debutantes played a big role in the Ash Baron incident.”
I pulled checks from my inner pocket, handing one to each.
“Your reward. Buy anything you want on the Floating Island, price no object.”
Sylvia nodded calmly; Ifrin's face choked with emotion; Yeriel, watching from behind, gaped in shock.
“K-kids, what're you gonna buy with those...?”
Yeriel rushed over, pretending to ask while eyeing the checks. Then she whispered in my ear.
Damn it, family checks! Why not personal ones!
The Floating Island doesn't take personal checks.
......
Meanwhile, Julie wandered the Floating Island alone.
“These paths are complicated.”
...She was lost, actually.
Exiting Grand Hall had gone fine.
But she'd come to in the island's town.
“Follow the walls”—the basic navigation rule—didn't work here.
Some streets shot straight into the sky; others plunged underground.
“...Hm?”
Wandering the area, Julie stumbled on a shop.
Brand Doll Shop
A smile tugged at her lips.
A doll shop on the Floating Island, too.
Up close, the display held cute stuffed animals: eagles, rabbits, pandas... She eyed a panda.
Gomtaeng Panda.
Unlike others, this one had brown eye patches—a famous panda brand from her childhood.
“...Ah?”
Suddenly, the owner opened the case and snatched only the Gomtaeng Panda.
It just sold!
As Julie smiled bitterly in regret—
Tinkle—
The shop door's bell rang open.
Out stepped a famous face Julie knew: Sylvia. Cradled in her arms was the Gomtaeng Panda.
“...”
“Hello, Sylvia.”
“Yes.”
Sylvia seemed a tad flustered by the sudden encounter but quickly caught Julie's gaze fixed on her doll.
Sylvia said proudly.
“It's a gift.”
“For whom?”
“No. I received it.”
Sylvia had unwittingly said something odd, but it wasn't wrong.
A gift was “something bought by another for oneself.”
Since she hadn't paid for this doll, calling it a gift wasn't a stretch.
...Not forced at all.
I got a gift.
“I got a gift.”
Sylvia boldly held up the Gomtaeng Panda with both hands. Julie laughed endearingly and asked.
“I'm jealous. Have you ever seen a real panda?”
“Yes. I saw a real Gomtaeng Panda when I was little.”
“Oh, really? So jealous!”
“Julie.”
Then a familiar timbre flowed from behind Julie. Sylvia instantly knew the owner.
Deculein.
He smiled upon spotting Julie.
“Here you are.”
“Ah, yes.”
Deculein's gaze shifted belatedly to Sylvia.
He introduced her to Julie.
“This is Sylvia. A mage brimming with talent. Worthy of challenging the Ether rank.”
Sylvia glanced between Deculein and Julie beside him. The Gomtaeng Panda she'd proudly shown off now hid behind her back.
“I know her. We were just talking—”
“I'll be going now.”
Sylvia cut Julie off with a nod and fled like her life depended on it.
Julie watched her retreating figure.
“Anyway, Julie. Did you understand my lecture?”
At Deculein's question, Julie's face flushed bright red.
Truth be told, she hadn't grasped a word. She'd only sensed the mana flow from the runes.
Deculein smiled faintly.
“No matter. I didn't expect you to. You only came because of Zeit, anyway.”
Julie flinched but soon shook her head.
“No. The invitation came from the family head, but I chose to come here.”
“Is that so?”
“Yes. I'm serious.”
“...Then, Allen?”
The assistant professor who'd been toddling after Deculein stepped forward.
“Yeees.”
“Help Julie tour the island. Knights rarely get chances like this.”
“Ah, yeees. Got it. Nice to meet you, Knight Julie!”
Allen beamed and bowed to Julie.
“I'll be off. With me here, Julie, it'd be awkward for both of us.”
“Not necessarily—”
“It is. Isn't it?”
He countered.
Understanding his meaning, Julie gave a wry smile and nodded. Deculein left her behind and departed.
“W-well then. I'll show you the tourist spots... Ah, main island first? No, surrounding islands? Wait, no, then... Ah, Knight Julie! How much time do you have? Depending on that, the route...”
To flustered Allen, Julie replied graciously.
“It's fine. I have plenty of time—no need to worry.”
Her voice soothed the soul.
* * *
Clear skies. Blazing sun. Shimmering haze. Hot, humid winds... All the makings of an imperial summer filled the land that day.
After proving myself at the symposium, I returned triumphantly to the tower. The board rented an entire high floor for a welcome party; professors showered me with praise; Adrienne granted the promised title.
Planning and Finance Adjustment Director Deculein
In truth, the tower was built more on gold than magic. It rose and fell on investments from nations, territories, corporations—treating annual mana stone supplies like lifelines.
The fuel running this tower was money alone, making it the world's most capitalist place.
And here, I'd seized absolute power over “finance”...
“Professor! Final class plans and career counseling schedule.”
Allen appeared, handing over documents.
The tower lectures were nearing their end; Debutantes needed to ponder futures.
“Career counseling, hm.”
“Career counseling” was when 1-3 year mages at Debutante or Soda rank sought professors' future advice.
No one would apply to Deculein, naturally.
“Three applied to you, Professor!”
Allen said brightly.
The nuance grated.
“...‘Three,’ is it?”
“Ah, I-I didn't mean! Um...”
“It's fine. I already know.”
“S-sorry! That wasn't my intent—”
“I know. Out.”
Allen glanced back repeatedly as she left. I pulled a letter from the sponsorship mailbox.
Another from Ifrin.
Hello, it's Ifrin, Sponsor. Thank you for the reply. Vacation's almost here...
Reading it, I drew the pendant from my drawer.
“...”
The Ifrin I knew was honest, unskilled at hiding emotions.
That trait stretched back to childhood; in the photo, young Ifrin smiled brightly still...
“What is it.”
It wasn't her father.
He wasn't smiling.
In stark contrast to happy Ifrin.
His expression was rigidly, frighteningly stern.
* * *
Wednesday noon. Tower 77th floor.
Sylvia stood before Chief Professor Deculein's office and knocked.
Knock-knock—
Career counseling week spanned a month before and after finals.
Worried Debutantes begged various professors, but Deculein wasn't on the list.
Per the message board: “Deculein's bluntness is intimidating.”
Weaklings like you, maybe.
Knock-knock—
Scorning them, Sylvia knocked again.
Assistant Professor Allen opened the door.
“Ah, Sylvia. Wait here. Someone's in counseling now.”
“Who's inside.”
“Yeees, it'll end soon.”
Sylvia sat quietly. Allen pecked at the new typewriter.
Tap—tap—tap—tap—
Hunt-and-peck eagle style, painfully slow.
About ten minutes later, the counseling room door opened. Sylvia looked up and glared at the mage.
“Insolent Ifrin...”
Of course, she assumed Ifrin.
“Hm? Sylvia?”
“...”
It was Drent.
The man whose paper Deculein had burned at the merit awards.
“Ah, surprised? Me too... haha. Anyway, good luck.”
Drent scratched his nape awkwardly and left. Sylvia couldn't make sense of it but entered soon after.
The chief professor's office was spacious and luxurious. No—the aura of its occupant lent it elegance.
Deculein sat at the counseling desk. Sylvia approached demurely and took the chair.
Deculein asked with impassive eyes.
“Unexpected, Sylvia. You for career counseling.”
“Yes.”
Sylvia nodded.
Truth be told, it hardly qualified as counseling. Her path post-Soda promotion was half-decided.
“So. Your concerns?”
“...”
Sylvia recalled words Ifrin once flung at Deculein.
—I'll apply under you, Professor. I'll uncover what happened there! Why my father had to die—why he committed suicide!
Deculein wouldn't want such an insolent fool. He'd probably lamented even considering her.
Thus, Sylvia decided to step up herself.
“Should I apply under you, Professor?”
She turned the question back. She wanted confirmation straight from his mouth.
Her cheeks puffed; fingers on her knee fidgeted.
“...”
Deculein stared silently. A rare look of surprise.
Moved, perhaps.
Of course. It was natural.
She was Sylvia, after all. Any professor would welcome her application.
Deculein included.
As surely as 1+1=2.
No need to wonder his reply. Obviously yes.
Good ideas bubbled in Sylvia's mind.
Pop-pop—pop—pop-pop-pop—
...However.
“A poor choice.”
Deculein shook his head.
“...”
Sylvia couldn't process it for a moment.
Had head-shaking become yes, nodding no? Had social norms shifted?
“You are not meant to serve under anyone.”
“...”
At that, Sylvia faltered. She unwittingly invoked her rival.
“And Ifrin?”
“Ifrin has potential. She's my late assistant's daughter, and lacks much compared to you.”
Sylvia stared blankly at Deculein.
Her plump cheeks deflated.
“Sylvia. You have archmage qualities. Go to the Floating Island instead. One or two years, and your skills will bloom; plenty of time to challenge archmage.”
...He meant it.
Professor Deculein spoke in earnest. Clearly praising her.
So why this feeling?
Why did sharp needles keep pricking her heart?
“Even if you applied, I wouldn't accept.”
A critical hit.
Sylvia wilted like a drooping bean sprout.
She said nothing for a long time. Just stayed that way.
“...?”
To Deculein, it was puzzling.
His praise, offered while suppressing petty jealousy and twisted feelings from his personality.
“Sylvia. Lift your head.”
Sylvia didn't. Her reaction felt off.
Beneath her lowered lids, a tiny glint flickered.
No way.
Not tears.